


Bad Habits

by Velociraptorqueen



Category: Advanced Warfare - Fandom, Call of Duty, Exo Zombies
Genre: M/M, Smoking, cursing, hurt/comfort kinda, kinda sad, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velociraptorqueen/pseuds/Velociraptorqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smoking isn't good for ya kids</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own these kiddos thanks for letting me borrow them Treyarch. Also this a continuation sorta of my past work, At The Park. You don't really need to read it to understand what's happening here though. Also, (sorry this is long) I appreciate the attention and kudos and stuff, it makes me really happy that people like my ship garbage.

Oz and Kahn were settled into Kahn's beat up pickup truck, going way over the speed limit along a backroad. They both hated highways. The light of Oz's cigarette in the dark was the only thing giving his presence away. It was like a nicotine firefly in the night, fading in and out. Kahn sighed, shifting to pull over. His driving companion made a concerned noise, flicking on the light above them. "You really shouldn't smoke so much dude." Kahn had launched an argument he knew wouldn't sit well with his little smoker buddy, but he couldn't stand to lose another loved one to this shit. "Wha- dude that's what this is about? Why are you so worried? I don't even smoke all that much." He was grumbly, putting out his cigarette on the door of the car despite himself. Kahn huffed at his defensiveness, but counted it as a victory. "Doing that shit long term'll fuck you up. I don't want you to have to talk to me through a hole in your damn throat." Kahn fixed him with a sharp look, a jagged tangle of scorn and fear coiled inside his gut. He breathed in some cold air, head ducked out of the vehicle. Oz fidgeted in the passenger seat, a mess of anger and guilt. And as seconds ticked by, they both felt the walls so desperately built lose a brick. This should've been a turning point for them. This should've drained the violence from their veins, let them drip dry in the desert heat where coyotes wail. But they were stubborn. It was hard to love another when you didn't even love yourself. Oz's fist slammed on the dashboard. "Why do you keep lecturing me like this? Who cares what I do? It's my life. If I die, it's my own fucking fault. Why the hell do you give a shit?" He was shouting now, voice almost echoed by the barking of distant dogs, fighting to be heard. He was near crying mad, fingers straining out in strange snakelike shapes. The intensity of his voice threw Kahn off, surprising him to the point of jerking in his seat. Oz bit into the meat of his cheek, his hands retracting back into fists. The poison that seeped into his pallet was a bitter concoction, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. Kahn felt the venom drip off of all his words, lighting a firework inside of him somehow, his tongue hot and ready to lash out and snap back the anger. His mouth couldn't trap the heat any longer, forcing him into yelling. "I give a whole lotta fucks about you! Why shouldn't I worry? You're one of my best fucking friends you jackass! If I don't look out for you, you get yourself fucking killed. Is it so hard to believe that somebody actually cares? Or are you too pig headed and stupid to realize that I fucking give a shit? You've always been there for me and it's only right that I do the same." He clenched his hands around the wheel, the lava oozing from his mouth singing his tongue as it puddled around him. He felt the sting of regret, betrayal and another third indistinguishable feeling all swirl together in an awful mix, like tequila and milk. He was the first to break down. He crumbled under the fear. "I'm just so scared that you're gonna get fucking lung cancer and I'll never forgive myself because I'll just think, "why couldn't I have said something?" Nobody wants that on their conscience. Nobody wants to lose somebody they love to some bullshit they could've put an end to." Oz sat there, taking in the words. He sighed and glanced ruefully at the offending cigarette butt, still barely intact on the road. "Ok. I'll try to slow down. And...I'll consider getting patches or something for cravings. Maybe even attempt to stop all together." He bit his lip, drawing a small dribble of blood with his excessive force implemented. "I...I just...they help with stress I suppose. Maybe I'm punishing myself. Maybe I'm just an idiot. They became a habit. I shouldn't let them control me, but I feel like I need them??? Without them I feel empty sorta. It sounds dumb but...it's how I feel." The taller of the two was stretching himself along the seat, tipping back his head to drink in the moonlight. On fucked up nights like this, he felt as if the moon itself could make him drunk off of its glow, the soft light riding his body into such a high, he felt it flowing through his veins. He made no attempt to shy away from the hand grabbing his. "I seriously fucking care about you dude. We can get through this together. I'll be here every fuckin step of the way." Kahn was squeezing his hand now, eyes tightly shut as he strained his ears to locate the dogs' calls. The boy beside him laughed. Even the best intentions can drive a line between two friends. New feelings complicated things. Everything was not always sunshine and friendship bracelets. They weren't kids anymore. He would've cried, but the tears were all dried up and it would hurt too much to cry in front of someone who cared so deeply for him. Once they were home, his shaky hands desperately palmed for a cigarette. He breathed in the deadly poison, exhaling into his own special cloud of euphoria. He almost chuckled at it all. How could he love someone, if he didn't even love himself?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorta inspired by a loved one that passed away because of lung cancer. Hope you're happy somewhere Norm. Also I never got to tell you, I'm gay Norm. (Excuse this dumb notes section it's like 2 in the morning here and I need to get this like fuckin off my chest)


End file.
